


Just Between Us Girls

by Ann_Drist



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Humor, Roommates, Sexual Tension, Slapstick, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, gals attempting to discern if their pals want to be more than pals, the agony of being queer and not knowing if the girl you fancy is too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-05-20 11:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14893967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ann_Drist/pseuds/Ann_Drist
Summary: The only regret Peggy has about moving in to The Griffith as Angie's roommate is not ascertaining beforehand if Angie was A) queer at all and B) interested in her specifically.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic basically re-imagines Season 1 of Agent Carter based on how I think things should've gone between Peggy and Angie. Focus is on them and the setting is mainly the room they share. All cool spying hijinks happen offscreen.

It started with innocuous things. Angie would come home from a late shift and chatter to Peggy about her day. But the problem was Angie would shuck off her waitress uniform, mid-conversation, never missing a beat. Keeping eye contact as she disrobed with no regard to modesty, not even turning her back to take off her brassiere. Peggy never knew where to look in these situations. Angie gave off an air of being as comfortable in her altogether as anything else. Peggy had no real cause to object, because as soon as Angie was undressed, she’d pull on a dressing gown or a terrycloth robe.

That complete lack of modesty would serve her well if she ever got her big Broadway break. Brief sequined outfits that showed lots of arm and leg, if she made it to the chorus line. And group changing spaces backstage with no privacy to be had unless you were a star. 

Peggy worried Angie would mind if she knew how much Peggy liked looking. Either Angie was simply the most shameless girl who’d ever lived, or she was queer. Er, well. Queer and shameless. Peggy had never experienced a woman so brazenly and casually flaunting her assets, and she’d served in the American army in World War II. She cursed herself for failing to discern if Angie was looking for more than female friendship before moving in with her. They’d signed a lease together, and if Peggy made incorrect assumptions, she could wind up with an awkward living situation at best and a scandal-riddled expulsion from The Griffith at worst. 

The first few times Angie had taken off all of her clothes as casually as one might have removed a coat, Peggy had blushed and looked away. Her side of the conversation faltered. That just drew a toothy grin from Angie. “What, you shy, English?” She had unclipped her garter belt and lobbed a stocking at Peggy, who jumped. “Goodness!” 

Angie’s amusement at how flustered Peggy got only made things worse. Instead of quickly disrobing in a no-nonsense fashion she’d stop, try to catch Peggy’s eye, and then very slowly peel off the next layer of clothing. The more Peggy blushed and averted her gaze, the more Angie turned it into a full-on strip-tease, complete with Angie bombastically imitating big band music. 

Peggy sat at their tiny kitchen table, drinking tea and doing her best impression of a statue, when Angie’s garter belt came flying across the room and landed on her face. She managed to retain her composure for one entire second before her shoulders shook with giggles, and she had to carefully place her teacup on the table so she wouldn’t spill it all over herself as she cracked up laughing. 

Angie’s schedule wasn’t the same every day. Some days she’d work the breakfast and lunch shifts and be home before Peggy. Other days she’d go out to auditions and not be back until after Peggy was asleep. But Peggy always felt a secret thrill to the air on days when Angie worked late. She’d stop by the diner after work and Angie would be there, spending any downtime she had sitting next to her. 

“I got an audition today.” 

“That seems awfully late.” 

Angie shrugged. “Show’s due to open soon and it turns out the lead is pregnant. _And_ showing. I’m still trying to land in a chorus line, but hey, it’s a time crunch, and everybody good and well-known is already booked, so.” 

“Well good luck. What a shame for her though.” 

“Yeah. At least I don’t gotta worry about that.” 

Peggy took a second look at her. Was she just commenting on the fact that she wasn’t currently going out with any men? Or did she mean that sex with men was something she wasn’t interested in, ever? 

“Anyway, it’s too bad you’ll probably be sleeping by the time I get back.” She lowered her voice. “I’m wearin brand-new underwears.” 

“Really?” Peggy sipped her coffee. “Here I thought I’d seen every stitch of clothing you had.” 

“Nah, English. These’re brand-new.” 

“What do they look like?” 

Angie smirked. “Stay up after your bedtime and you’ll find out.” With a wink, she was gone, stepping off to serve another customer. Peggy stared after her, trying to divine what was going on under that dress. Would they be bright silk? Embroidered with flowers? Festooned with bows? Frothy with machine lace? 

Jarvis sat down across from her, and it took her entirely too long to get her mind back on track. Shocking lack of discipline from a secret agent. She cleared her throat and took another sip of coffee. 

“Deep in thought of how we’re going to get Mr. Stark out of his latest scrape?” 

Peggy dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “Yes, naturally.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is the sexual tension one-sided? Will it ever be resolved? Will Peggy stay up late to get a glimpse of those new undies???
> 
> Stay tuned to find the answer to some or all of these questions!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When winter comes, it's too chilly for Angie to carry on with her impromptu strip-tease routines. Peggy is disappointed until Angie devises a practical way to ward off the chill.

If the choreographed striptease routines hadn’t been frustrating (and oh-so-tantalizing) enough, things got worse when the weather turned. 

At first, Peggy thought she’d finally have a break from being titillated (on purpose? accidentally?) by her roommate. It was chilly enough in their suite that Angie couldn’t be bothered with her silly striptease games. (Peggy felt grateful, then she missed them, then she felt guilty for missing them.) Angie would undress in a big hurry and dive into a flannel nightgown and a thick robe as soon as she could. She would throw a robe around her shoulders and whisk off her underthings out of sight, trying to trap as much body heat as possible. 

Peggy tried to tell herself this was a good thing. Perhaps without the vision of her scantily-clad roommate parading around three nights a week, she could let go of this inappropriate infatuation. 

But then Angie would do things like cling to her for warmth or hold her hands, entwining her fingers with hers. The whole time, loudly complaining how chilled she was, and how lucky Peggy was to not be fresh in from the street. 

And it wasn’t anything like the flirtatious undressing. It was sweet, and it made Peggy go all soft in her chest, which was even worse. She carefully kept her feelings to herself. Angie could never know about this torch Peggy was carrying for her. Unless she felt the same way. If only there was some way to ascertain how Angie felt without asking her.

“You know what, English? I’m sick of this. It’s about time we pushed the beds together.” 

“Wh-what?” Peggy desperately tried to look like she hadn’t had idle daydreams about doing just that (preferably after Angie danced around undressing). 

“I’m tired of freezing to death every night and waking up with hands and feet like icicles. Let’s scooch the beds together so we can keep each other warm.” 

Peggy had a lot of ideas about how they could keep each other warm. So many, in fact, that she was worried about her ability to sleep through the night without saying something incriminating or waking up in a compromising position. 

She cringed imagining the explanations. “No, it’s that my hands were cold, so that must have been why I woke up with my hand inside your nightgown, cupping your breast.” Was that believable? It made sense, because breasts were so warm and soft and lovely, of course anyone would want to rest their cold hand there. And then perhaps draw their cold fingers around the areola and see if they could tweak the nipple into a peak—

Lord. Peggy headed to her medicine chest. There was no way she could remain composed without some kind of sleeping draught. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Listen, we all know from Peggy's reaction to Steve becoming Super-Soldiered that she appreciates a nice pair of tits. This is canon!)
> 
> Is Angie completely oblivious, or the biggest tease alive? Peggy would dearly love to know which it is...


End file.
